


cherry cigarettes and leather

by oisugasuga



Series: Kinktober 2018 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha Oikawa Tooru, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, And Also Very Very Late, Doggy Style, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Kinktober, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Omega Sugawara Koushi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, This is Really Just Self-Indulgent Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 21:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisugasuga/pseuds/oisugasuga
Summary: Suga kisses back, mouth soft and warm, pushes closer on his tiptoes to reach. Oikawa smiles — he’ll never get over how Suga has to stand on tiptoe to kiss him fully.Oikawa can taste vodka on his lips and he lets his hand drift from Suga’s chin to push both palms down in Suga’s back pockets, fitting his hands around Suga’s ass to tug him closer.And that’s when Suga pulls back sharply, looks up at him with that look that Oikawa knows so well."Tooru," Suga says, his voice reaching Oikawa’s ears even over the noise — a perk of being mates. "Fuck, I think -" He breaks off but Oikawa’s brain is already putting the pieces together.





	cherry cigarettes and leather

Oikawa doesn’t realize something is off until Suga looks up at him like _that_.

 

    They’re out in the middle of the dance floor, Oikawa’s fingers hooked in Suga’s belt loops to keep him close as they sway back and forth to the pounding bass.

 

    Oikawa is enjoying himself — he’s not drunk but he’s had two beers and it’s loosened up some of the tension that’s accumulated over the past few weeks of work and dealing with finding a bigger place and taking care of Kuroo’s cat while he’s been on vacation.

 

    This — coming out to spend a night drinking and dancing — had been something him and Suga had needed after all of the work they’ve been doing lately.

 

    So with alcohol buzzing through his veins and Suga so pretty in front of him, Oikawa is relaxing, is enjoying spending time with the person he loves most in the world.

 

    It doesn’t happen until Oikawa pulls Suga closer, tilts his chin up with his fingers to drop a kiss to the other’s lips. Suga smells like orange blossoms and vanilla, the way he always does, his scent imprinted in Oikawa’s mind the same way Oikawa’s is in his.

 

    Suga kisses back, mouth soft and warm, pushes closer on his tiptoes to reach. Oikawa smiles — he’ll never get over how Suga has to stand on tiptoe to kiss him fully.

 

    Oikawa can taste vodka on his lips and he lets his hand drift from Suga’s chin to push both palms down in Suga’s back pockets, fitting his hands around Suga’s ass to tug him closer.

 

    And that’s when Suga pulls back sharply, looks up at him with _that_ look that Oikawa knows so well.

 

    "Tooru," Suga says, his voice reaching Oikawa’s ears even over the noise — a perk of being mates. "Fuck, I think -" He breaks off but Oikawa’s brain is already putting the pieces together. 

 

    Suga’s cheeks are flushed now, from more than just the little bit of alcohol he’s had. And when Oikawa inhales again, he can suddenly smell the sweet scent of burning sugar, Suga’s skin radiating it faintly.

 

    "Come here," Oikawa says immediately, pulling his hands out of Suga’s pockets to wrap an arm around him and guide him through the crowd. Suga’s skin is hotter than it had been seconds ago and Oikawa feels a pang of guilt for not realizing sooner than now.

 

    "Did you take anything at home?" he asks Suga as they twist and weave, avoiding curious stares that Oikawa curls his lip at. No one makes any move towards them, but being around so many people right now is suddenly uncomfortable, puts Oikawa on edge.

 

    He wants to bare his teeth at the glances they get, but he also knows how much Suga hates it when he treats him like he’s something breakable just because he’s an omega. So he bites his tongue, focuses on winding around the tight, little knots of people as fast as he can — they need to get home before Suga falls fully into his unexpected heat.

 

    "No, I -," Suga starts, but then a familiar face is swimming through the crowd as they finally break through the throng and come out somewhere near one side of the bar.

 

    Iwaizumi Hajime, who’s working tonight, seems to understand what’s going on the moment he lays eyes on the two of them. A damp dishtowel hangs from one of his hands, forgotten.

 

    His dark eyes rest on Suga’s face before flickering to Oikawa’s. "There are rooms in the back," he says unexpectedly but Oikawa isn’t really surprised at his intuition. Iwaizumi’s been his best friend since childhood — and he’s known Suga since college. "If you need them," he adds.

 

    Oikawa looks down at his mate. "Kou, can you make it home, darling?"

 

    Suga bites his lower lip, pearlescent teeth digging in. Oikawa inhales saccharine honey, sweet and sticky. His heart thumps in his chest, pulse picking up at his wrists.

 

    God, he wants to hold him, wants to run his fingers through that star-fire hair and pull, wants to sink his teeth into the silvery white scar along Suga’s pretty neck and taste the salt of his skin on his tongue and -

 

    "I don’t know," Suga answers, breaking through Oikawa’s thoughts. "I think so."

 

    His pupils are dark and large in his pale face, a rose flush spreading down his neck. Oikawa looks over at Iwaizumi, sees the same thought that’s going through his head flash through Iwaizumi’s eyes.

 

    "Tooru," Suga says, but he doesn’t finish his sentence, digging sharp teeth into his lower lip again, nuzzling closer to the alpha wrapped around him.

 

    Oikawa moves closer to Suga, using his height to shield the other as best he can. The weight of curious glances, of eyes that glow in the dark, sit heavy on his shoulders, leave his skin crawling with pins and needles.

 

    "Follow me," Iwaizumi says in answer to Oikawa’s desperate glance. He nods over his shoulder to a co-worker to take his spot, circling around the bar to stand a respectable distance in front of them. "He’s going to be in too much pain if you call a cab now."

 

    Oikawa winces at the thought, a sharp pang going through his chest. "Okay," he agrees quickly.

 

    Suga whines then, low and sharp, looks up at Oikawa with eyes that have turned dark, and Iwaizumi gestures for them to follow him.

 

_"Shit,"_ Oikawa thinks. Suga’s scent is beginning to become overwhelming, seeping under Oikawa’s skin — and the idea of Suga hurting makes him want to pull Suga to him here and now, help him through his heat as soon as possible.

 

    The pounding music and the flashing lights fade as Iwaizumi leads them through a door in the back, shutting it behind him.

 

    Oikawa looks around. The three of them are standing at the beginning of a long, dark hallway. The faint smell of cigarette smoke and cherries lingers in the air. Closed doors line each side of the hall, alternating, shining like dark mahogany.

 

    They remind of Oikawa of eyes, gleaming.

 

    "There are private rooms back here," Iwaizumi explains quickly. "The owner told me about them, but they’re from a past establishment. No one uses them anymore."

 

    Oikawa gives him a sidelong glance, one arm still wrapped around Suga’s warm, trembling body. His omega is clinging to him, fingers digging into Oikawa’s t-shirt and eyes large and bright. He whines again, once, under his throat and Oikawa strokes the bangs from his eyes with his free hand, drops a comforting kiss to his lips, the breath shuddering in his own lungs at the proximity.

 

    "Is this okay?" he asks Iwaizumi, straightening back up with some effort. The other omega has turned his body partway to avoid looking directly at them, but he glances back now, nods.

 

    "Yeah, I’ll cover for you."

 

    "Thanks, Hajime," Oikawa breathes, and means it. Thinking of Suga in pain — thinking of his doe-eyes dark with misery, of the cries that would leave his lips — is agonizing. 

 

    And as Suga buries closer to him with a breathy huff of air, a new wave of heat and scent rolling off of his skin, Oikawa knows that trying to get home would’ve been a mistake.

 

    Iwaizumi only nods and then turns, slipping back out into the dizzying pool of music and lights of the club, disappearing and leaving Oikawa alone with Suga in a hall that smells very faintly of mildew and sweet tobacco underneath everything else.

 

    " _Tooru_ ," Suga pants out, fingernails sharp through Oikawa’s t-shirt now, his breath sugar-sweet against Oikawa’s face when he nuzzles up.

 

    "It’s okay, sweetheart," Oikawa reassures quickly even as his heart thumps in his chest, reaching out to twist the handle of the closest door, praying inwardly that it’s unlocked.

 

    It gives beneath his hand, the faintest cloud of dust huffing through the air as the door swings open easily.

 

    "Okay, it’s okay," Oikawa continues to murmur to his mate even as his eyes adjust to the new darkness.

 

    Every inch of his skin, his blood, his bones is painfully aware of Suga — of his sugary scent and the way his pupils swallow up his irises now, black and bright and pleading. Desire and love and the urge to protect, to take care of, mix with frightening but familiar intensity in the pit of Oikawa’s stomach.

 

    He watches as Suga drinks in the sight of the room before them, only for a second, chest moving with breaths he’s clearly attempting to calm down, trying to control. His throat works as he swallows, eyelashes like feathers when he blinks.

 

    "Is this okay?" Oikawa asks, referring to the dim hulk of a leather couch opposite them, the large, vermillion and gold rug sprawled over the floor, the empty fireplace in the corner and the ghostly shapes of two barstools on the opposite wall, right in front of a long, marble countertop.

 

    Suga lets go of him, takes a few steps into the place, fingers fumbling against the wall until Oikawa hears a small click and low lights suddenly flood the place with warm yellow light.

 

    Smaller details come into shape, faster than they would have even with heightened senses. The leather of the couch is in surprisingly good shape, gleaming like dark oil, and the rug looks plush even though Oikawa can see what he guesses are wine stains in spots. Rows of crystal glasses sit on the shelves behind the bar, frosted with a layer of dirt.

 

    Overall the room is nice, despite the thin layer of dust that settles over everything like a whisper-touch of cobwebs.

 

    Suga huffs out a small laugh, turns to Oikawa with a little grin even though Oikawa can see the way his fingers curl in on themselves, shaking a little, can smell oranges and vanilla drowning in honey as Suga’s heat grows and builds.

 

    "Kinda feels like we’re getting ready to shoot a low-budget porno," Suga jokes weakly, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides.

 

    Oikawa isn’t sure about "low-budget" — not with all of the nice things in here — but he is sure of Suga, of the little fidgety movements his mate is struggling with. He can _feel_ the yearning to let go of what little control he has left, to reach out for Oikawa — can see it burning in Suga’s eyes as they focus on his face.

 

    He’s as sure of it as he is of himself, of how the mirror-image of Suga’s need scratches at his skin, growls at him to _do something_ , to go to his mate.

 

    As soon as Oikawa locks the door, Suga is there, the two of them colliding with unrestrained force, a natural push and pull that they’ve felt since day one, since that fateful moment that their eyes had locked across the rainy city street on a chilly day in September.

 

    Oikawa folds Suga into himself with a relief so palpable he can taste it on his tongue, can feel it shiver through his bones.

 

    His fingers wind in Suga’s soft hair and his mouth fits perfectly against his mate’s, the sudden tangle of lips and teeth and tongue hot and dizzying — a train hurtling down the tracks at full speed.

 

    Suga’s lips are soft, perfect, press again and again to Oikawa’s with increasing force, his breath coming quick and hot against Oikawa’s mouth. Trembling fingers dig into Oikawa’s ribcage through his shirt, clutching at him, trying to get him close, closer.

 

    "Come here," Oikawa breathes, voice already raspy and low, his pulse thundering in his ears, every single thought in the world narrowing down to, _"Koushi"_.

 

    Suga is his, Suga is here in his arms, Suga needs him. Every thought pounds at Oikawa like a hammer, every breath brings him closer to being here for his mate, to being able to give him what he needs.

 

    The leather couch creaks a little in protest under their combined weight when they manage to stumble over, collapsing in a tangle of limbs on top of it. Suga is in Oikawa’s lap, his heart pounding underneath the thin shirt he has on and the beat of it shivers over Oikawa’s skin, sounds in his ears like his own thundering pulse.

 

    " _Tooru_." Oikawa shudders deep and slow at the sound of his name on Suga’s lips as he kisses down his mate’s throat, fingers slipping on the plastic buttons of Suga’s button-down to get his shirt off. Suga’s voice is low, throaty, already so needy that Oikawa nearly rips the fabric beneath his fingers in his haste to feel warm skin, the edges of bone, the pull of muscle that he knows so well.

 

    It doesn’t help that Suga’s usual scent is gone now, replaced entirely with burnt sugar and caramel and honey. It overpowers Oikawa’s senses, radiates off of Suga’s skin in sweet waves of pheromones that make Oikawa feel as if he’s burning from the inside out.

 

    Oikawa nuzzles into his mate, into his soft, hot, skin, mouth seeking, searching for the rapid pulse point beating at the hollow of Suga’s throat and sucking. He tastes salt, tastes honey, wants with a violent wrench of his stomach to sink his teeth in and leave marks all over Suga’s body, leave him panting with the pain, keening with pleasure.

 

    He wants to see those gorgeous honey eyes wide and dark and blown wide with need as he fucks him.

 

    Suga’s body reacts to just this, his shirt sliding from his shoulders, his hips rocking forward and down into Oikawa’s crotch as he moans quietly and Oikawa’s throat closes up at the feel of Suga fully hard and trembling against him.

 

    "How do you feel, baby?" The words slip easy from Oikawa’s lips, like water. He pulls back from his mate, looks up at his flushed, perfect face and watches the little shudder that works its way up Suga’s spine at the sound of his voice, the weight of Oikawa’s eyes. The low lights in the room paint Suga’s skin with gold and shadows and God, the sight of him — perched in Oikawa’s lap, pink mouth parted — is breathtaking.

 

_"Mine,"_ Oikawa thinks with a sudden rush of protectiveness. His fingers tighten at Suga’s hips. _"My Koushi."_

 

    "Tooru," Suga breathes, pressing the whole length of his body forward, kissing Oikawa’s neck, his jaw, up his cheek. "Tooru, please, _please_ , alpha." His breath fans hot and sweet over Oikawa’s skin. His eyelashes skim Oikawa’s and then they’re kissing again because Oikawa will be damned, there’s no way he can resist Suga in any way, especially not like this.

 

    Not when the pretty, silver-haired omega is grinding, writhing on top of him. Not when Suga is burning up, the front of his jeans darkening as he grows wetter, his heat hurtling like a train down tracks. Not when Oikawa’s every atom binds him to the other in every way.

 

    They crash back together and all Oikawa knows is that he hates the jeans that Suga is wearing, too tight to pull off easily. His fingers stumble on the button and zip while Suga’s deft hands tug Oikawa’s shirt up and over his head.

 

    "Damn," Oikawa curses softly, still struggling while Suga whines and pants against his skin, legs locked firmly around Oikawa’s hips. "Here, love, turn this way."

 

    In one fluid move, Oikawa stands, keeping Suga’s thighs around him, and turns, laying his mate back down along the leather, following to fit in between his legs. He wants those damn pants off.

 

    Especially when he can fully see how needy Suga has really become, his cock straining against the denim, pre-cum and slick already staining the fabric, the smell of Suga’s heat rising in the room. Oikawa’s own dick is painfully hard, his blood racing.

 

    With no shortage of relief on both their parts, Oikawa finally peels the dark denim down over Suga’s legs, yanking his underwear along with them until his omega is splayed out before him — cream skin on dark leather, darker eyes and a kiss-pink mouth, a flush flooding his neck, shoulders, down to his hardened nipples. 

 

    Oikawa stops moving. The breath catches in his lungs. He’s never, in all the time they’ve been together, not been struck silent and still by the sight of his perfect omega and this time is no different.

 

    He lets his eyes trail for just a moment over all of Suga, down lower to the smooth expanse of his quivering stomach and then to his cock, flushed and curved up towards his bellybutton, leaking pre-cum all over the place. Down lower still to Suga’s strong, beautiful thighs and the slick between them as his omega continues to pant, his chest rising and falling with the action.

 

    " _Tooru._ " 

 

    Oikawa’s gaze snaps back up to Suga’s face, his mouth dry, throat tight. 

 

    And all it takes to break the spell is for him to meet Suga’s eyes, his mate’s pupils expanded to crush his irises into slivers of gold.

 

    "Come here," Oikawa breathes and Suga obeys, reaching for him at the same time that his thighs lift back up to wrap around Oikawa’s waist. 

 

    Oikawa kisses him, hard. His senses are overwhelmed and all he wants, all he needs, is to make Suga feel good — to bend him over this couch and fuck into him hard and fast and messy.

 

    "Is that what you want?" Oikawa grits out, murmuring the words into the shell of Suga’s ear, telling him what he wants to do to him and Suga’s body jerks, a broken moan falling out of his mouth. 

 

    Oikawa’s hand moves from stroking Suga’s cock, palm slick with pre-cum, to drift up his body, to pinch a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rub the hardened peak until Suga is gasping, crying out, slick, wet sounds filling the room as he resumes what Oikawa had been doing, jerking himself off hard and fast below him.

 

    "Yes, yes, please, Tooru, please fuck me, please. Want you, want your cock, _need_ it, alpha. God please."

 

    And God, does Oikawa want it just as much. All rationality that might’ve been in his head before is gone now, burned up in Suga’s cries and the feel of his body, the scent of him dribbling all over the leather beneath them as the couch groans under their weight.

 

    He imagines bending Suga over, nudging his thighs apart as his omega’s knees shake, working him open on his fingers and listening to the pretty, pretty sounds his mate would make as Oikawa stretched him, slick running clear and shiny down the insides of his thighs. He sees it in his head, Suga’s ass facing him, his hole quivering and so, so wet, waiting for Oikawa to thrust into him, knot him.

 

    And he can’t take it anymore, can’t resist his need to join them together, to give his mate what he needs — what they both want.

 

    Oikawa barely manages to lift himself off of Suga, but he does, watching with his heart thundering in his ears as Suga’s eyes crack open blearily, tears blurring at the edges of them, seeking out where Oikawa has gone.

 

    "One moment, sweetheart. Just give me a second." Oikawa keeps his voice low and soothing somehow despite the desire that feels like it’s eating him alive.

 

    He slides out of his jeans and underwear as fast as he can, leaving them discarded on the floor, watching all the while as Suga remains spread out naked on the couch, biting his lower lip so hard Oikawa can smell blood, writhing against the slick, stained leather and fucking into his hand desperately.

 

    Suga comes then, before Oikawa can move. He cums all over his stomach, keening, a long shudder working its way over all of him and it’s absolutely filthy, the sight of it, of him.

 

    It almost has Oikawa doing the same, but he regains a tenacious grip on the edge of his pleasure, cursing instead and lets Suga reach up for him when he returns to the couch, gently helping his omega to his feet.

 

    Somehow in his haze he surveys the couch, deciding what will be best for Suga and finally decides that the arms are too low for him to use.

 

    "Can you get on your hands and knees on the couch, baby?" he asks, kissing down Suga’s cheek to his jaw, dragging his nails down Suga’s back. "Can you do that for me?"

 

    Suga moans and nods, sweat darkening his bangs, trembling and shaky with need. But he crawls up onto the couch, positioning himself along the length of it and Oikawa can’t help but reach down and stroke his own cock as Suga gets situated, heat burning at him, vision going hazy once more.

 

    He gets on his knees behind Suga, reaches out to grip both of Suga’s asscheeks and palm them, relishing in the filthy moan that comes deep from Suga’s throat at the touch.

 

    Suga’s skin is soft, firm, and Oikawa’s fingers leave behind faint pink marks when he lets his hands drift down to Suga’s thighs, prying them farther apart until Suga gets down on his elbows, splayed out nearly as far as he’ll go, his head bent down by the curve of his shoulders, ass fully up in the air.

 

_"God,"_ Oikawa thinks even as the words, "Good boy," drop from his lips easily. 

 

    Suga shudders, groans, cants his hips back, a fresh wave of slick driveling out of him and down his legs, the smell of burning sugar nearly overwhelming.

 

    "Tooru, fuck me, please, fuck me," he whines, and the words sound so deliciously desperate coming from his muffled voice that Oikawa wastes no more time.

 

    He spreads Suga’s cheeks with a hand, sucks in a breath at the sight of Suga’s hole, pink and fluttering, slick and waiting to be filled. The keen Suga gives when Oikawa finally traces around the rim of it has Oikawa’s cock jumping, and he rubs harder, drawing more of the high-pitched sounds from his lover’s lips — circling his finger around and around the sensitive rim, pushing his thumb flat against Suga’s asshole and rubbing him that way too, up and down, circling until Suga is thrusting helplessly down into the couch to get some relief against his cock, which Oikawa knows is hard again.

 

    It’s easy to slide the first finger in then, when Suga is crying out unintelligibly at the feel of Oikawa’s thumb teasing his hole. Suga’s slick coats Oikawa’s hand completely, running down the curve of his wrist as he massages the inside of him, slowly at first and then faster, thrusting his finger in and out. Suga is so hot and wet and tight around him it leaves Oikawa biting at his lower lip, breathing raggedly, the heat that’s burning in the pit of his stomach almost unbearable.

 

    But he goes at an even pace, working a second finger in beside the first, fucking Suga on his hand as he stretches him. Sweat lays a low sheen over Suga’s skin, prickles at the back of Oikawa’s neck, and all he can smell is Suga, leather, blood, cherry cigarettes. All he can hear are Suga’s desperate noises, so filthy and loud, echoing off of the dark-paneled walls and all he can see are his own fingers sliding in and out of his mate and the dirty, wet sounds it’s making, pale against pink skin.

 

    The third finger is in and Oikawa is sliding his hand at a steady, fast pace in and out of Suga when he lets his free hand drift down to rub at Suga’s perineum, to cradle his balls and massage them in his palm.

 

    "Tooru, _fuck_ ," Suga’s incoherent voice suddenly finds his words, his breath loud and uneven as he moves one of his arms to fist his cock once more. "Tooru, please, _please_."

 

    And Oikawa wishes he could talk the way he knows Suga likes it — telling him how filthy he is, how perfect, how needy letting himself be bent over and put on display like this, what a good boy he is for listening — but today he can’t. 

 

    Not when he can hear Suga jerking himself off below him, not when Suga’s perfect ass is right here in front of him, his hole dark and wide as soon as Oikawa removes his fingers, leaking and waiting for Oikawa’s cock. Not when his mate is begging him like that, the scent of his heat mixing with everything else and destroying all of Oikawa’s thoughts.

 

    So he finally gives in to his own crushing desire, to Suga’s pleas, using both hands to grip Suga’s cheeks and keep them widespread as he slowly slides into him, holding his breath and biting his tongue, finally finding it in him to murmur soothing words to his mate.

 

    It’s agonizing, the slowness of it all after everything else, the tightness that squeezes so delicious and hot around Oikawa, the broken keens coming from Suga’s throat in between broken gasps as he finally gets what he’s been dying for.

 

    But soon Oikawa is fully seated, every inch of his skin prickling with an electricity, with sparks that almost hurt.

 

    "Kou." He manages to breath his mate’s name, a weight building up in the pit of his stomach, dark shapes flashing behind his eyelids and the slow, intense curl of pleasure running hot and heavy all over him.

 

    Suga goes still for one, solid second, the lovely curve of his spine straightening out. Then he breathes, barely audible, "I’m okay, Tooru, _please_ just -"

 

    Oikawa gets the message, a breath leaving him at the gorgeous crack to Suga’s voice, everything confined to that one "please".

 

    He starts to move, gripping Suga’s ass with firm hands and sliding out inch by inch before he pushes back in again. Just over the top of Suga’s silver head, Oikawa can see his mate’s free hand digging his fingernails into the leather of the couch, knuckles turning white as Oikawa fills him up once more.

 

    Oikawa repeats the motion, slow, dragging it out at first. But Suga’s nails scrabble at the couch, leave behind white marks, and his voice goes high and pleading again, begging Oikawa to not stop, and Oikawa’s vision goes white-hot, as white as the rips Suga is leaving in the expensive leather.

 

    He pulls out and thrusts back in, faster this time, the movement rocking Suga’s body forward. Suga makes a noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a muffled sob, one pale shoulder flexing while he works himself over, ready to come for the second time if not the third. Oikawa has lost track of everything but how Suga feels around him.

 

    Soon, Oikawa is fucking into Suga the way they’ve both been yearning for, fast and deep, the sounds of skin against skin and Suga’s keening cries and the desperate creak of the couch rising loud and then louder.

 

    Oikawa stays on his knees and drives himself into Suga over and over, panting, sweat trickling down the slope of his back, dampening his hair, keeps his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Suga’s ass and listens to his mate beg and moan, watches him arch his back, make a mess of the leather, spread his legs wider. He tries to talk but his voice is still stuck and all he can do is groan and focus on pushing Suga closer to the edge, on hitting that spot that has Suga scrabbling.

 

    Their movements leave Suga’s body sliding farther down onto his elbows, each thrust into him rocking the couch. Oikawa can barely see as the haze of absolute pleasure — full and undiluted — digs its nails and teeth deep into him.

 

    And when Suga clenches around his cock, squeezing, Oikawa feels his knot start to finally swell.

 

    He cums then, deep inside Suga, cock throbbing as he does, filling up his mate. Suga cries out once more, goes still and then shudders, and Oikawa knows he’s finished too, shooting off all over the couch beneath him.

 

    Oikawa thrusts in once, twice, three more times, lazy and slow as his hips jerk and his orgasm and his mate’s pleasure overtake him, a crashing wave over all of his senses.

 

    For a moment, or maybe minutes, Oikawa is lost. There’s nothing but static in his ears and the feel of Suga everywhere, the scent of honey, thick and sweet.

 

    When he finally comes back, he’s slumped over Suga’s back, his knot fully connecting them and Suga is still breathing hard but silent now as he lets his orgasm wash over him. Oikawa can hear his heartbeat pounding up through his spine.

 

_"Mine,"_ is the first coherent thought in Oikawa’s head.

 

    He turns his face, pushes a kiss to a knob of Suga’s spine and then another. Suga murmurs something, but his voice is too tired, too quiet for Oikawa to hear.

 

    Carefully, gently, Oikawa moves and eases Suga until they’re lying back to stomach on the couch. He’s mindful of the tug of his knot inside his mate, wishes they could move down to the plush, comfortable-looking rug instead but is okay with this for right now.

 

    "How’re you feeling, baby?" Oikawa murmurs the words into the crook of Suga’s neck, spooning the omega and rubbing his hand up and down Suga’s arm.

 

    Suga hums, nestles in closer, his voice heavy with sleep when he answers. "Mm good."

 

    Oikawa smiles softly, heart swelling at the feel of Suga and the sound of his beautiful voice, drowsy as he wavers between sleeping and staying awake. He knows that Suga will be awake again soon and needy, his heat returning in waves over the next couple of days, but he’ll worry about getting home later. For now the door is locked and Suga is warm and sated in his arms.

 

    "Sleep some," Oikawa urges softly, kissing the back of his neck and inhaling his scent. He starts to nuzzle his skin, scenting the other as best he can given the circumstances.

 

    "Okay," Suga murmurs and then he’s going slack in Oikawa’s arms, his breathing quickly evening out and then slowing. 

 

    Oikawa pauses then, shifting onto an elbow to peer down at his mate’s sleeping face. And he watches the slow breaths, counting each one, until he feels sleep come to drag him down beside Suga.

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of Kinktober2018 - Public
> 
> This is so late I'm not even going to try to make up an excuse... and honestly, it's really just self-indulgent porn... but I hope you all like it! Thanks for reading!
> 
> As always, you can visit my blog @ [oisugasuga](http://oisugasuga.tumblr.com/)


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